


Worship Him

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, First Kiss, First Time, Gentle Sex, Grace-enhanced sex, M/M, potentially triggery, pre-slash/destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This was why Lucifer was dangerous. Because he could make almost anyone fall just a little in love with him.</i>
</p><p>Castiel makes a deal with the Devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship Him

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING for dubious consent (Castiel agrees for the deal, not because he wants to) and some pretty hardcore emotional manipulation.
> 
> This was beta'd by karmascars, which is a really freaking good thing because I failed miserably at editing when I sent her the second draft, lol.
> 
> NOTE (1/28/16): To anyone watching this for a sequel, I do still intend to write it. I just signed up for too many big bangs, lol.

It should have been obvious that the Reaper was a trap.

The hundreds of other Reapers that were gathered silently in the town of Carthage, awaiting the deaths of an equal number of souls, had paid Castiel no mind as he strode purposefully through their ranks. Not a single one had acknowledged his presence. Only the lone Reaper lingering in the window of an old apartment building had looked right at him. Naively, Castiel had hoped it meant that Reaper was willing to communicate with him, and had flown up to meet it.

He now knew why humans were so fond of the phrase, “ _hindsight's twenty-twenty_ ”.

The circle of holy fire was spread out far enough for Castiel to stand comfortably. He could even sit if he wanted to without fear of touching the flames. Instead he turned slowly, taking in his surroundings calmly until his gaze landed on a figure that made him freeze in place. His eyes narrowed, fingers flexing with a visceral desire to curl into a fist.

“Lucifer.”

The archangel's lips twitched, the barest quirk of a smile. He gazed coolly at Castiel for a long moment, almost basking in the seraph's incendiary stare, before he slowly began to walk closer. “So, I take it you're here with the Winchesters?”

This was said casually, almost coaxing. It took Castiel only seconds to say, in what he hoped was an earnest, truthful tone of voice, “I came alone.”

Lying was still very new to him. He often stumbled or failed completely, but certain lies came more easily to his lips. He knew with unwavering certainty that it had nothing to do with his increasing humanity and everything to do with the fact that he was protecting his charges. His... _friends_.

Lucifer clasped his hands behind his back and made that strange, quirking smile again, eyes never leaving Castiel's face. “Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age.” He tilted his head, considering his captive for a moment before he asked, “Castiel, right?”

Slowly, Castiel nodded. He had no reason to hide his name from Lucifer. If the archangel truly wanted to, he could take it straight from Castiel's mind, his grace. He was being oddly courteous, and Castiel wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“Castiel, I'm told you came here in an automobile.” Lucifer took a few steps closer. His befuddled expression made him appear deceptively innocent. “What was that like?”

“Um...” Castiel tilted his head, considering the correct term while at the same time wondering why Lucifer appeared to be making small talk. No... it was small talk by human standards. This was one angel reaching out in curiosity to another. This was an act of _friendship,_ and that set Castiel more on edge than the holy fire trying to lick greedily at his shoes. “Slow,” he finally said. “Confining.”

Lucifer nodded once. His expression had evolved, deepened into something almost fascinated.

“What a peculiar thing you are,” he said, and the soft lilt of his voice made it sound like a compliment.

Castiel didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He looked the archangel over instead, searching for anything that might give him a clue as to why he'd been brought here. It took only seconds for him to notice the broken, peeling patches of skin marring the right side of the archangel's forehead, splashed across his cheekbone like morbid drops of water.

“What's wrong with your vessel?”

“Nick's wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid.” Lucifer gave a small shrug, like he wasn't really all that sorry and didn't see why he should be. “He can't contain me forever.”

A hot, bright spike of fury lanced through Castiel, through the body that shouldn't be his and only became so due to one man's faith and his own arrogance. He'd convinced himself for some time that God must have given it to him – how else could he inhabit an empty vessel? Yet the longer he went without finding God, the more Castiel began to suspect that belief was nothing more than a comforting fantasy.

He didn't know how he was able to inhabit the shell of James Novak, but he was fully aware that he didn't deserve to. Here, now, watching Lucifer act as though his vessel was nothing but a meat-suit he could tear apart and toss away... it infuriated Castiel.

“You...!” Castiel growled, starting to lunge forward only to stop short of the flames licking dangerously close to his legs. He stepped back, righteous fury boiling up within as he met Lucifer's gaze. “You are not taking Sam Winchester.”

He didn't realize he'd meant to say it until it was there, hanging in the air between them. Didn't realize how much of his anger was protectiveness. He wondered briefly when Sam had become a friend to keep safe rather than an abomination that needed to be eliminated.

“I won't let you,” he added, more quietly but with no less power, as though there wasn't a ring of holy fire keeping him bound.

“Castiel.” Lucifer paused, frowning for a moment before he continued his slow circle around the seraph. He paced like a caged tiger, restless, perhaps like the creature needing the movement to keep himself sane. “I don't understand why you're fighting _me._ Out of everyone!”

“You really have to ask?”

“I rebelled, I was cast out. _You_ rebelled, you were cast out.” It was said simply, as though it made them exactly the same, as though there wasn't a drastic difference in how they had each handled their separate punishments. Lucifer stalked once more toward the fire, becoming insistent. “Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? _You're_ their new public enemy number one.”

That gave Castiel pause. He actually stopped to consider it because it was, he realized, probably true. With Lucifer out of the way, Heaven wouldn't hesitate to remove the next potential threat on the list. The next rebel _,_ no matter how different he might be from the first.

“We're on the same side, like it or not,” Lucifer said breezily. “So, why not just serve your own best interests? Which, in this case, just happen to be mine.”

If Dean Winchester had taught Castiel anything, it was that the whole point wasn't to serve your best interests. It had nothing to do with Castiel himself and everything to do with all the people he was trying to protect. He could worry about Heaven's wrath when and if it came.

“I'll die first,” he said, firm and quiet and final. He met Lucifer's eyes without blinking.

Lucifer stared back for a long moment. He leaned back against the wall and tilted his head, considering the seraph before him like he'd never seen anything quite like Castiel. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “How about we make a deal?”

“A deal with the devil?” Castiel actually smirked, because that was almost funny. “Why would I make a deal with you?”

“Because it will save your precious Winchesters,” Lucifer replied immediately. “That's the problem, isn't it? I want to wipe out humanity, you want to save it. What if I could meet you halfway?”

Confusion rushed through Castiel. He clamped down on it, eyes narrowed, only allowing himself the barest tilt of his head. “I don't understand.”

Lucifer nodded, like he could relate. “How about this,” he said. “There's probably some way to fortify this vessel, make it strong enough to contain me like Sam is supposed to. You find it, and you help me overcome Michael... or preferably just keep him out of Dean altogether... and I'll leave the Winchesters alone.”

Castiel stared with unfettered disbelief. “Why?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Because I don't lose anything. If you can find a way to make this vessel stronger, then I don't need Sam. If you can't, I'll be taking Sam anyway.”

“What about everyone else?” Castiel took a careful step forward, bringing him closer to the edge of his prison but not close enough to feel the flames.

“I suppose I could handle leaving some of the population alive,” Lucifer said, as though the gesture was incredibly generous. “I'd even leave them alone, so long as you do what I ask of you.”

Warning bells went off so loudly in Castiel's mind that he could practically physically hear them. He instantly wanted to say no, but found himself choking on the word. If Dean failed to kill Lucifer, this was their best chance. It wouldn't save everyone, but wasn't saving even some of them better than none at all?

Wasn't saving Sam from Lucifer's clutches worth it?

And there it was, the crux of the problem that Castiel was only just now identifying. Sam and Dean. The first humans Castiel had ever truly cared about. All he wanted to do was save them, no matter the cost.

“You want Sam and Dean to be at peace when they die, don't you, Castiel?” Lucifer asked suddenly, softly. He pushed off the wall and walked towards him, smiling almost gently. “They could live out their lives without worrying about hunting monsters. They could be with their loved ones when they go. No Hell for Dean, no repercussions for Sam. They'd have the run of Heaven by the time I'm through with it.”

Something in Castiel gave way, just a little, and Castiel knew that Lucifer saw it by the triumphant glint in his eye.

“And hey,” the archangel continued, “you never know. Maybe they find a way to get rid of me, and you never have to worry about any of this.” Lucifer said it lightly, almost a joke. “Come on, Castiel. I can see how badly you want to protect them.” 

Here Lucifer's smile softened, became understanding. “I get it, you know. I feel the same way about different things. Tell you what, I'll even let the people in this town live.”

He was telling the truth. That much Castiel could determine with his fading grace. If he did what Lucifer wanted, then Lucifer truly would leave the Winchesters alone. The seraph tried to consider the other humans he knew this would save but his mind, his grace, was made up. He would do it to save Dean and Sam. He would do it if it  _only_ saved Dean and Sam. 

“Deal.”

The word tripped so lightly over his tongue and out into the world that he never had time to try and stop it. Lucifer looked genuinely shocked for all of a second before he quickly smoothed the expression from his face, though his eyes lingered incredulously on Castiel for a long moment.

“Deal,” Lucifer echoed. “I trust you won't run away the second I put this out?” He gestured loosely at the ring of holy fire.

“I won't,” Castiel agreed, even as he clenched his fists to keep himself from doing just that as the flames flickered and died. “How do we... seal it?”

Lucifer's lips quirked in that odd smile of his. “Do you know why demons seal their deals with a kiss?”

Castiel shook his head tersely. He'd never thought about it, never bothered to contemplate the significance of it.

The archangel stepped forward. He reached out and touched his fingers to Castiel's cheek, brushed his thumb over Castiel's chin in a way that was oddly tender. Unused to any kind of touch that wasn't Dean's slaps on the back or Sam's tight grips on his shoulder, Castiel found himself swaying into it on a very physical instinct. He'd discovered early on that he liked touching, that it made him feel connected to others, an intimacy he hadn't felt since grace-to-grace contact.

“That wasn't how it was done originally. When I made Lilith, deals were sealed with sex.” Another step, and Lucifer was mere inches away now. Castiel could feel the heat of his breath ghosting over his cheeks, his lips, and it made them tingle in a way that set him on edge. He met Lucifer's eyes again, defiant, only there was something in the darkness of the archangel's gaze that confused him further. Something deep and soft, inviting.

“It's ironic,” Lucifer continued. He stroked his wandering thumb lower, pressing so that Castiel was forced to tilt his head up. The archangel's breath washed over him more fully, a warm, pseudo-caress. It smelled like desert winds, with a faint cloying scent. The rot of his vessel. “A joyous act, to complete a deal that ends in hell. The kiss is just a reflection of what that used to mean. Only the oldest demons still seal a deal with sex.”

“And you,” Castiel said, no question in his tone. His eyes broke contact with Lucifer's, seeking comfort in the wall behind him, the floor, anything that wasn't the gentle, dark gaze staring so intently down at him. It didn't help when he could still feel the fingers tracing his jaw, the warmth of breath that felt so nice against his skin.

“Hmm.” Lucifer smiled, nodded once. “But our deal doesn't end in hell, Castiel. I want that place destroyed. Our deal ends in Paradise. You keep up your end, and you'll be welcome there. Right along with Sam and Dean.”

Castiel searched for the lie he needed so desperately, but it wasn't there. Lucifer  _wasn't lying._ He meant every damn word he was saying, and it left Castiel with no convenient way out. 

So he nodded. Opened his mouth to say yes.

“Ah-ah, not yet.” Lucifer lifted his hand from Castiel's chin and tapped his index finger over the seraph's mouth. “You don't have to say it yet.”

Another nod. The finger pressed to his lips stroked over the bottom one, slipping dryly across the curve of it. Castiel's lips parted like it was natural. He didn't fight it when Lucifer dipped his finger inside, brushing briefly over his tongue before retreating. It left behind a strange ache, a desire for more that had Castiel silently cursing himself and the apparent sensitivity of his body.

Lucifer stepped in closer, nearly pressing them together. His dark eyes were half-lidded as he bent his head, and Castiel was aware of a sharp, breathless anticipation coiling in his gut. Their eyes met and Castiel saw intimacy there, desire and satisfaction and a thrum of excitement that must have been tangible because Castiel swore he could feel it threading into him, curling seductively inside and telling him to relax, enjoy it.

A careful, warm hand curled gently around his neck, pulling him closer. Lips pressed softly to his forehead in a way that was almost sweet. It sent a strange, curious shiver through Castiel and it made him jerk away, confused and frightened and furious because of it. He thought rather suddenly of Dean's insistence that Castiel  _needed_ to experience sex, of the flashes he'd caught in Dean's mind of just how much the hunter himself enjoyed it. Was this why? This strange, searing sense of excitement and heat and fear that made his body want even as his mind protested? 

“Shh,” Lucifer shushed, softly. He'd dropped the condescending tone that might have made it easier for Castiel to fuel the fire raging in his belly with anger. He slipped around behind Castiel, arm sliding loosely around the seraph's stomach, mouth grazing the back of his neck. Castiel shuddered, lips parting around a silent gasp. The small touches were electric sensation rushing along the surface of his skin, sinking deep to twist the burn inside him into something thickly sweet, needy. As much as it frightened him, he was horrified to realize he wanted more.

“It's okay, Castiel,” Lucifer murmured, as though he could sense the turmoil inside the seraph and genuinely just wanted to comfort him. He lifted his free hand and passed it, butterfly-soft, over Castiel's eyes, encouraging him to close them. “You imagine whoever you need to. Whoever makes you want this.”

He wanted it already, and he hated himself for it. If Lucifer would just be violent or rough, if he would push and _take_ without regard to how Castiel felt... but that seemed to be his sole focus. Lucifer seemed to truly want to make Castiel feel good, and Castiel realized that it was going to ruin him. He closed his eyes, felt the warmth of Lucifer's hand pass away and lower to his throat. Fingertips teased at the flesh there, careful, never pressing too hard. 

“Dean,” Lucifer whispered suddenly, lips and breath brushing the shell of Castiel's ear. The seraph couldn't stop the deep moan of arousal that seemed to punch straight up from his gut at the sound of the name, no matter that it was shaped by the lips of the devil. The archangel chuckled quietly, satisfied but not smug. “I thought so. He does have a beautiful soul, doesn't he, Castiel? So bright. Almost blinding.”

Yes. Bright, beautiful, _infuriating._ So many times Castiel had found himself torn, wanting all at once to punch Dean's mouth, to kiss it, to claim it. Dean could make him so angry and so joyful in the same breath, had coaxed emotions both angelic and human from him with nothing more than hopeful eyes and a smile and that _need_ to always be better, even if Dean felt he was always failing.

Behind closed lids Castiel saw him, the human he had fallen for in every way, and recognized for the first time that he would want Dean like this, if Dean would ever have him.

“Do you want to worship him?”

Spoken so softly, those words seared into Castiel and burned him in a way that had his grace screaming blasphemy and his soul crying _yes!_

“Father, help me!” Castiel choked out, trying to twist away and yet closer. Worship was for God, only for God, and what Lucifer was suggesting was an indulgent sin so delectably tempting that the mere suggestion sent a surge of too-human lust coursing hotly through Castiel's body.

Lucifer chuckled, almost sadly. “You know our Father is gone,” he murmured. He stroked a hand through Castiel's hair, gentle, like a Master with a beloved pet. Strangely, it made Castiel feel pleasure where he wanted to feel disgust.

“Imagine it, Castiel,” Lucifer murmured. “Dean laid out for you, just for you, open to your grace.” The arm around Castiel's waist tightened as Lucifer took a step back, pressed a hand firmly between the seraph's shoulder blades. “You could stroke him with your wings.”

Castiel's knees gave out. He would have hit the ground if Lucifer hadn't caught him with the arm around his waist, pulling him in, tucking him safely against a broad chest. The hand on his back came up and around Castiel's forehead, drawing him down into the hollow of Lucifer's clavicle, his eyes still closed tight as he shook with fearful lust.

Wings were not meant for humans. Only their shadows were shown to the non-believers. It was rare even for angels to touch each other with their wings, an intimacy not unlike sex, something only for those who loved each other very, very deeply. 

To touch a human soul with his wings...  _Dean's_ soul _..._

“Stop,” Castiel pleaded, his voice too rough, too sharp. His body betrayed him, undulating back against the firm warmth of Lucifer, begging for more.

“Shhh,” Lucifer shushed again, pressing his lips to Castiel's forehead. The arm around Castiel's waist slipped lower, fingers curving over the tender jut of the seraph's hip through his slacks. “Is that too much for you?” Lucifer nudged Castiel with his nose, encouraging him to roll his head to the side, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You could worship him like this,” he continued, his voice sinking to a low, sultry whisper that had Castiel shuddering, the words caressing him. “I bet Dean's a sensual kind of guy. You could make him feel as good as I'm about to make you feel.” One last kiss, pressed almost chastely to Castiel's cheek. “I'll show you how.”

Any last traces of fight ran out of Castiel, slipping away as images of Dean laid out naked and wanting taunted him behind his closed lids. He kept them closed as Lucifer slid an arm beneath his knees and lifted easily, tucking Castiel in against his chest like the seraph was a small child and Lucifer his loving guardian. The archangel made low, nonsensical, comforting sounds, breathed against Castiel's cheeks as Lucifer gently set him down to sink into something delightfully soft. Part of Castiel wished there wasn't a bed, that perhaps it would be easier to resist if he'd struck the hard chill of the floor, but the rest of him was too thoroughly lost to the dark and thriving need inside him to care.

Without waiting to be prompted, Castiel opened his eyes and slid up the bed, laying himself out in more or less the center. Lucifer's eyes seemed to flash darker with the lust that was visibly painted throughout his expression. He drew in a deep, steadying breath and smiled approvingly.

“What a peculiar thing you are,” he repeated, and it sounded just as much like a compliment as it had the first time.

When he laid a hand on Castiel's chest, lazily sliding it downward, Castiel felt oddly compelled to point out, “This is a very human act.”

Lucifer simply smiled again, indulgently. “In a way, I suppose. More like a primitive attempt to reach the level of intimacy that only angels are capable of.” A quick flick of fingers and Castiel's clothes melted off his body, leaving him completely bare to Lucifer's sight. The seraph pulled his legs up immediately, embarrassed.

“There are many human practices I don't object to, Castiel,” Lucifer continued quietly. “It's most humans themselves I have a problem with.”

He reached out with both hands, pressing against Castiel's knees until he reluctantly spread them. A deep flush of heat pooled in his cheeks and rushed downwards, staining his skin a glowing red that spread all the way to his chest. Castiel turned his face away, pressing as much of it as he could into a pillow.

“Don't be ashamed,” Lucifer said gently. He knelt on the bed between Castiel's legs and reached out, cupping the seraph's cheek and turning his face away from the comforting concealment of the pillow. Fingertips traced the hot flush over his throat and down across his chest. “You're beautiful.”

Castiel wanted to object. He wanted to curse and rage and throw all the admittedly limited fury of his grace against Lucifer, but it was _difficult_ when Lucifer was touching him so gently, almost reverent, his eyes speaking of love and his smile promising so much pleasure.

This was why Lucifer was dangerous. Because he could make almost anyone fall just a little in love with him.

Castiel's eyes crashed closed, his throat sealing around a despairing sob. Anger flared hotly in his chest; not at Lucifer, but at himself.

“It's all right, Castiel,” Lucifer soothed, stroking a hand over the seraph's stomach. He rubbed it there in small circles and Castiel hated how nice it felt, how it calmed him, made him open his eyes in little slits and stare down his body at the cream-fed smile on Lucifer's borrowed face. “Does that feel good?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Castiel hissed, angry at Lucifer for wanting him to feel good, angry at himself for how much he loved it.

Lucifer's smile widened. He kept at it for a moment, increasing the pressure slightly. Castiel keened, a strange, high sound in his throat that had him flushing all over again. His hips strained upwards, his legs falling open willingly. He realized with a distant kind of horror that his cock was throbbing, beating to the same frantic tempo as his heart. It _twitched_ as Lucifer's hand circled, slowly creeping lower, so close... his hips thrust again, reaching, straining for touch.

“Have you tried it, Castiel?” Lucifer asked. His dark eyes flicked to Castiel's cock, his gaze all at once blazing with hunger, and mildly curious. “Touched yourself?”

“No,” Castiel bit out. He turned his face again, this time not so much burrowing away as simply choosing not to look.

“Good.” Lucifer's hand lifted away from his stomach. He said nothing else, and for several excruciatingly long seconds, Castiel thought he had left.

Then a large, warm hand was wrapping firmly around the base of his cock, drawing slowly upwards, twisting when it reached the sensitive head. Castiel's mouth fell open in shock, a soundless yell as he arched upwards into the pleasure that was so much more than he'd been ready for. His hips ached as he sought to spread himself wider, make himself more accessible, and in a moment of painful clarity he understood why Lucifer had said “ _goo_ _d_ ”. These first seconds of experience, the taste of such pleasure was pure, and Castiel would never be able to forget who gave it to him.

“Pretend it's Dean,” Lucifer coaxed even as Castiel tossed his head, both in denial of the trap he was belatedly realizing he'd sprung and the pleasure lazily curling through his body. “This is Dean's hand loving you, Castiel.”

Castiel shook his head again, squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered in revulsion and need. He couldn't pretend it was Dean, not when he knew down to his grace that Dean wouldn't touch like this. He would be frantic, a little rough, desperate to give and take, to love with his body because his words always failed. Only his kisses would be gentle, soft like the glimpses Castiel had seen in Dean's memories. Dean's kiss, or the gentle touches he sometimes offered Sam, was how he said “I love you” without ever breathing a word.

The seraph was aware of Lucifer shifting and the hateful, wonderful hand leaving his cock. He straightened his head and discovered the archangel was now hovering over him, hands planted in the mattress to either side, eyes dark with lust and affection. Lucifer was withholding his touch from Castiel, smiling almost teasingly as the seraph trembled and shamefully spread his legs wider, precome welling in the slit of his cock.

“I get the feeling picturing Dean isn't working for you anymore,” Lucifer said calmly. Between one blink and the next his own clothes were gone, and Castiel could see he was just as hard, his thick length red and rigid.

“It wasn't working for me before,” Castiel growled, and then realized his mistake almost immediately. He opened his mouth to fix it, to say that in no way was it Lucifer making him hard, making him need, but Lucifer was grinning and leaning down, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead like a benediction. His own personal damnation.

And then Lucifer lowered himself, pressing them together, hot and heavy and gloriously bare. A grating howl tore itself from Castiel's throat. He thrashed once against Lucifer's weight, but whether it was to get away or closer, he could no longer tell.

The archangel slid against Castiel in one long, sensuous roll that had him arching up for more. Their cocks rubbed together, brief friction, and the spike of pleasure that shot through the seraph was overwhelming compared with how light and teasing the contact had actually been. Lucifer stroked a hand over Castiel's cheek, praising the enthusiastic reaction, his expression so damn _pleased_ and Castiel couldn't tell if he wanted to smite that look from existence or do anything to keep it there. His body strained closer, his mind awash with pleasure signals, a confusion of need and heat.

The sudden slickness between his legs was a surprise. It coated his insides and made its warm, tingling presence known between his cheeks, along the sensitive rim of his hole. He'd known, but he hadn't _known,_ and the reality of what was about to happen was both terribly exciting and horrifying.

“You'll like it,” Lucifer promised. He lifted himself a little, just enough to slip a hand between Castiel's wide-spread legs and rub the pad of his finger over the slippery, wrinkled skin of Castiel's rim. “It's like tangling our wings, Castiel. So close. So... intimate.”

His finger slid inside, smooth and easy with the presence of the lubricant, and it did feel good. It was strange, invasive even, but the finger thrust so easily and rubbed so nicely within that Castiel couldn't contain another one of those keening whines. He canted his hips upwards, hands curling into the soft sheets beneath him, head pressing back into the pillow as he panted through lips parted and trembling.

Lucifer began murmuring again, more nonsense and comforting syllables. He slid smoothly back down between Castiel's legs, kneeling there, his free hand coming up to rub those careful circles on Castiel's belly. It was soothing against the hard-shock pleasure of having something inside him and Castiel found himself relaxing, sinking boneless into the mattress, loose and pliant when Lucifer slid a second finger into him. He suspected there should have been a little pain from the stretch, but there was none. The tugging at his rim, the pull of the pads of Lucifer's fingers against his insides, the stroking of a thumb over his perineum, all of it gathered and built upon itself until it was too much, until he wanted to scream, only to have it pool outwards in a sudden rush, spreading through his entire body and making him shudder helplessly. And all the while Lucifer rubbed his stomach, reassuring, gentle, whispering words of encouragement and praise.

When a third finger pressed against his hole, Castiel realized with a sharp punch of shame that he was begging for it.

The seraph was loose and open for Lucifer when he carefully eased his fingers free. The archangel slid back into place over Castiel's body, bracing himself with one hand and gripping his cock in the other, rubbing the head of it in firm, teasing strokes over the relaxed rim. Castiel bit the inside of his lower lip until he tasted the metallic tang of blood, shaking his head frantically in an attempt to hold back the words straining on the tip of his tongue. His hands came up to Lucifer's shoulders in a bruising grip, his legs closing around his hips as he tried to pull the archangel in, tried to get him there without opening his mouth, without actually saying it...

“Oh, Castiel,” Lucifer teased. “Remember when I said you didn't have to say it yet?”

Castiel nodded once, hard. His eyes flicked to Lucifer's gaze and away again, staring into the safety of a lightly tanned shoulder. Lucifer bent his head, nuzzling at Castiel's temple, his cheek, before finally moving to graze his lips against the shell of Castiel's left ear.

“Now,” Lucifer said, sharply, a sudden demand. “Now, you have to say yes.”

He pressed the head of his cock hard against Castiel's rim, not quite breaching him, and in the face of such pressure Castiel threw back his head, screaming his consent. He felt more than he heard the thrum of Lucifer's small but triumphant laugh, tickling pleasantly against his chest.

And then Lucifer was inside him, sinking to the root in one smooth thrust, and Castiel was screaming for an entirely different reason.

There was no pain of any kind. Not even a twinge of discomfort, only the thick weight filling him further and further, pressing against something inside that made him thrash and wrap his legs around Lucifer's waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He knew then that Lucifer was enhancing the experience, adding an element with his considerable grace to make the act into something so powerful, so pure an ecstasy that Castiel was mindless with it. He buried his face, burning hot with nearly forgotten shame and the sear of lust, in the crook where Lucifer's shoulder met his neck. He heard himself begging, felt his lips shaping words _move please please just move!_ but the words weren't important, they meant nothing unless they brought him what he so desperately needed.

“Shh, little seraph,” Lucifer whispered, tucking his cheek in against Castiel's hair, stroking the back of his neck. It was said so _loving_ _ly._ Castiel burrowed in deeper, huddled frightened and needy against the enormity of Lucifer's power, cursing himself silently because he _wanted_ that love.

The archangel moved then, finally, just a small rock forward that put renewed pressure against Castiel's prostate. He built a rhythm from there, slowly working up to deep thrusts that were just a little too slow, a little too careful. Exquisite. Castiel tugged, heels digging deep into the flesh of Lucifer's lower back, his hips arching up to meet each thrust and the unearthly pleasure it brought.

“More?” Lucifer asked, and he sounded so genuine, like he really wanted to be certain.

It infuriated and pleased Castiel. “More,” he demanded, low and harsh. He used the grip he had with his legs to slam himself upwards, taking Lucifer entirely inside and grinding himself there, his head falling back against the pillow as he hissed through bared teeth.

The archangel obliged. He sped up his pace, hips slamming into Castiel's ass with loud slaps that rang in the seraph's ears, would have embarrassed him if he wasn't so hopelessly lost in arousal. He hissed again when Lucifer sealed his open mouth over Castiel's bared throat, sucking a series of hot, wet kisses into it, most likely drawing blood to the surface and marking him, however briefly. It sparked a longing inside Castiel, something he couldn't identify, making him whimper and paw at Lucifer's shoulders and tilt his head further, baring himself as much as possible.

“What do you want, little seraph?” Lucifer asked, hips working, lips whispering against Castiel's skin with each word.

“I don't...” Castiel panted, tilted his head even further so that he could hardly speak for how strained his throat was. He shook his head, confused, frantic. He shivered when a hand slid into his hair and brought his head up, tilting it to the side as Lucifer lowered himself, brushed his lips against Castiel's chin oh-so-softly. “I don't know!” Castiel managed, but he sensed what he needed was close.

Lucifer hummed, something like contentment, like he was just so pleased with Castiel. God help him, but in that very moment Castiel _wanted_ him to be pleased, wanted to know he was bringing Lucifer the same pleasure.

“You want a kiss,” Lucifer purred. He ghosted his lips over Castiel's, too briefly.

 _Yes_. Yes, Castiel wanted a kiss. He wanted to be consumed at both ends, in every way. “Yes,” he whispered, too far gone to even pretend to fight anymore. “Yes!”

He opened his mouth to beg, and Lucifer took him, sealed his lips over Castiel's and slipped his tongue inside, wet and warm. The moan that escaped the seraph was drunk down and tucked away, licked clean out of his mouth. It was a little too hard, the pressure a little too much, and Castiel loved it. He forced himself even further against Lucifer's mouth, opened wider, slid his tongue along the archangel's and did his best to climb right inside. Lucifer grunted, kissing him harder, only to pull away abruptly and leave the seraph gasping with the need for more.

“Say his name, Castiel.”

The shock of lust, of need and _want,_ was so sudden and unexpected that Castiel's eyes blew wide. He shook his head, tried to hide his face in Lucifer's shoulder and was surprised when it was allowed. Gentle fingers stroked his hair just like they had earlier, a soothing counter to the intensity of the pleasure each thrust of Lucifer's hips brought him.

“Say his name,” Lucifer repeated firmly.

Castiel shuddered. He shook his head again, hard, burrowed further into the heat of Lucifer's skin.

“Dean,” he whispered.

It truly felt as if something inside Castiel shattered the moment the hunter's name left his lips.

“Dean!” He screamed it as if he could use the name to summon Dean, as though he could open his eyes and find it was the hunter driving into him. “ _Dean!_ ”

Lucifer's mouth slotted back over his as more pleasure than Castiel knew was possible made his toes curl and his fingers dig deep into the muscles of Lucifer's shoulders. It built in the pit of his stomach, each wave fed by every thrust against his prostate, every drag against his rim, every brush of Lucifer's stomach against his cock, until finally it rushed out of him, swept him up in its embrace and consumed him. He was dimly aware that he was screaming into Lucifer's mouth, that he couldn't break the kiss and didn't want to. That there was wet warmth spattering against his stomach and chest, and that the pleasure only continued, intense, almost too much as Lucifer rocked faster, making strange, cut-off grunts into Castiel's mouth. He drove himself into the seraph, forced their mouths together so hard that there was finally a spark of pain as Castiel's lip split. Lucifer's arms began to shake and he finally tore away, letting out a long, shivering breath before sinking to the side, slipping easily out of Castiel but never quite parting with him. His leg remained hooked over Castiel's thigh, his hand an insistent, pressing weight against the center of Castiel's chest, telling him on no uncertain terms that he was not to move.

Castiel concentrated on the breathing he didn't need to be doing. _In, out. In, out..._

“Don't worry,” Lucifer murmured after a while. He brought his hand up from Castiel's chest and stroked his cheek, smiling fondly. “You don't need to see me again, unless you do find out how to make this vessel stronger.” The archangel slid closer, pressed a kiss to Castiel's throat. “Unless, of course, you _want_ to come to me,” he added, low and inviting. “I will never turn you away, Castiel. I will never forsake you like God has.”

Castiel closed his eyes. They burned anyway, and a single, stubborn tear escaped down his cheek.

When he opened them again, Lucifer was gone. His clothing was back in place, and the slick mess between his legs had vanished.

A quick prayer from Dean was what eventually forced him to move. He could hear the concern in Dean's thoughts, the hope that Castiel was okay, and could he please get his feathery ass back here because everyone in town had reappeared. Castiel closed his eyes and spread his wings, and when he opened them he was looking into a pair of very relieved green eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean barked, covering up his concern as usual with bluster and a gruff tone. “Everyone just friggin' reappeared, right in the middle of town!”

So they had. Castiel didn't know whether to rejoice that Lucifer had kept his word and let the town live, or to despair that he kept his word and bound Castiel to service.

Perhaps he could do the human thing and achieve both at once.

He looked at Dean, with those tired eyes and his stubborn, vibrant soul; and Sam, with his purity that always managed to overcome the evil this world tried to force on him. He looked at these two men that he loved, and realized he couldn't bring himself to truly regret his decision. Not if it meant that it would keep them safe, them and so many of the people for whom they fought.

“My apologies,” Castiel said finally, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. “I was trying to find out why the Reapers were here, and Lucifer trapped me in holy fire.”

There was that concern again, flashing in both brothers' eyes this time. Dean asked if he was all right, Sam wanted to know what Lucifer wanted. Castiel swallowed the guilt and the fear that they would find it all out, told himself it was worth it to keep them safe.

“I'm all right,” he said. “He just wanted to talk to me. He wanted... another angel on his side.”

_What a peculiar thing you are, my little seraph._

Castiel briefly closed his eyes and pushed the lingering traces of Lucifer's grace away from himself. He prayed to anything with the power to assist him that he would never have to go through with his deal, that Sam would find a way to say no, that they would end this without losing anyone.

He prayed to God and God alone that he would have the strength not to return to Lucifer.

~

END


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